


Nemeses and Nightmares

by SandraMorningstar



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mission Fic, To Be Continued, the hurt part of hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraMorningstar/pseuds/SandraMorningstar
Summary: Q spends his day off at a tech convention. Things take an unexpected turn when he runs into Bond who is on a mission trying to find and protect the target of the ploys of a shadowy organisation.





	1. The Setup

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the result of a sort-of writing challenge I did with my wonderful friend EllaStorm. We both had about two hours to write something and this is what I came up with. 
> 
> She uploaded her fic, called "Choosing The Path", too. It's a fic for the movie Labyrinth and definitely worth a read.
> 
> This fic is not really betad except for me going over it and polishing it a bit. All mistakes are mine. If you find them ... I don't know; use them as a paperweight or something. Or tell me where they are and I will come and collect them. ;)

Being in the business of spying on people on a professional level honed a person’s perception in a unique way. Which was the reason Q immediately realised something in his surroundings had shifted and perked up to figure out what it was.

He really, really hoped it was just a false alarm; his mind working overtime even on his day off.

At first glance everything seemed perfectly mundane. The convention centre was busy but not crowded as today was reserved for press and business representatives only. Q wasn’t either nor was he here as quartermaster of MI6 although he had used that to get in. He was just here because he liked to see what the rest of the world was up to technology-wise. Plus, he enjoyed conversations with people who were as passionate about their work as he was and with whom he could have interesting, stimulating discussions. At work, Bond filled that niche even though he knew next to nothing about tech.

Speak of the devil, Q thought incredulous as his gaze zeroed in on the agent who seemed to leisurely walk along the booths, coming his way. On second glance, however, Q spotted the headset and the intensity in the agent’s posture and knew that Bond was here on business. That alarmed him a little because when he’d left work yesterday 007 had been in Mali for a mission that was frankly much too easy for him and wasn’t due to return until tomorrow. Him being here meant something had come up that was so important – or so dire – that it warranted his presence and abandoning an ongoing mission.

Q felt his heartbeat quicken. His eyes wandered over the people walking past him and a silent question formed in his head: _Are we in danger?_ He needed to know so he decidedly stepped into the crowd of people and headed in Bond’s direction. The agent would see him coming, of course. In fact, he counted on it, hoping that Bond would find a way to signal if it was safe to approach and talk to him.

 

There was a minute shift in bond’s expression the moment he saw Q and he immediately made a beeline for him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, he asked in a low but unmistakeably irritated voice.

“Catching unicorns”, Q deadpanned, adding: “Not to mention you’re way more out of place here than I am. How did you even get in?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?”, Bond said, the edge of his words now replaced with amusement. “I decided on a career change.” He held up a press pass and smirked.

Q read the name of the fake magazine and held back a laugh. “You? Working for a tech magazine? As aliases go, that’s horrible. They couldn’t at least pass you off as some business magnate?”

“It worked so far”, Bond said confidently.

“Have you talked to anyone yet?”

“No”

“That’s probably why”, Q teased.

Bond frowned for a moment but quickly recovered and the wry smile he sported afterwards made it clear that he hadn’t taken offence. “Play nice, quartermaster”, he said quietly enough to make sure only the two of them could hear it. “Or I’ll keep protocol and not tell you why I’m here.”

“You threatening me to stick to protocol?”, Q said with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, the horror…” He sighed dramatically. “I guess I have no other choice then.”

“Q branch intercepted a message this morning – thank your brilliant R for that – hinting that something big will happen here today. We doubt it’s going to be anything … explosive but there are a lot of important people here so we freed up as much manpower as we could to hopefully be prepared for any eventuality.”

“Shit!”, Q said quietly. He looked around, trying to be casual about it, and spotted a couple other familiar faces, all agents. “Can I do anything to help?”

“It’s your day off”, Bond said as if that was an answer. “We’ve got this.”

Q huffed in frustration. He fixed Bond with a very stern gaze and said: “Do you honestly think I am just going to ignore this and go on with business as usual?”

“The only thing you could do is keep a lookout and you’d only draw attention to yourself that way”, Bond said imploringly.

But Q didn’t back down. “I will not just stand by!”, he insisted, his voice raised to what would have been an indoor voice elsewhere but was completely drowned out by the hustle and bustle surrounding them here.

“Fine!”, Bond said. “Stay with me then. Together we might even be less conspicuous, come to think of it.”

“What are we looking for?”, Q asked as they continued walking. “R made a list of possible targets. Here, take a look.” The agent handed him his phone and Q scrolled through the rather extensive list.

“Was there no way to narrow it down?”, he asked because this was like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Finding the actual target would be pure luck and he hated having to rely on that. He gave the phone back.

Bond shook his head. “Not with the information we had at hand.”

Q threw him a sideways glance and just knew the agent was holding something back. “And?”, he prompted.

Bond didn’t seem surprised that the quartermaster had seen through him. “And there is a chance the target isn’t even on the list. Those are just the people who got a personal invitation but that is just a fraction of everyone here.”

“Not to mention the fact that some firms send more than one person or send whoever is available at the time”, Q said.

“Exactly.” The agent nodded.

“That’s a serious disadvantage”, Q stated. “Finding the target like this is futile. We have to find a way to weed out more people. Give me a computer and somewhere with a little privacy and I might be able to do that.”

“I know where we’ll find both”, Bond said. “There’s a press room this way. We’ll find someone from security and have them clear the area.”

“That’s–”

Someone bumped harshly into Q and would have knocked him over had Bond not grabbed and steadied him.

“Thank you”, Q said a little breathless. His side hurt.

He looked down and went pale when he saw the syringe sticking out of it. Bond had seen it, too.

“Don’t panic”, the agent said, his voice steady but for a small flutter of nerves. He immediately began talking into his headset, giving a very rough description of the attacker. The quartermaster was almost a hundred percent positive that even MI6s best agents would not be able to identify anyone based on so little information but kept those doubts to himself.

“How can I not panic!”, Q hissed when Bond finished. “Somebody just poisoned me with god knows what!”

“I’ll get you to medical and they’ll fix you up.” Bond wanted to sound reassuring but Q knew him well enough to hear the edge of a doubt in his words.

 

They took the direct way to the parking garage. Bond in the lead parting the sea of people in front of them, resorting to pushing and shoving away whoever didn’t move out of the way fast enough. Q was out of breath by the time they’d reached the lifts. On their way down his vision began to grow blurred and unfocused. He told Bond who implored him to stay with him.

“Tell me something”, he said as he steered Q towards his car.

“What?”, Q asked.

“Anything. Doesn’t matter what as long as you keep talking.”

“You wanted to know why I’m here…” Q trailed off.

“I thought you were unicorn hunting”, Bond said, his amusement sounding hollow.

Q managed a faint smile. “Not quite”, he said. The world suddenly began swaying as if they were on a boat. Q stumbled but, again, Bond kept him from falling.

“I’ve got you”, the agent said and pulled him upright again. “So what were you doing here?” His voice seemed to come from far away all of a sudden.

Q found he had trouble concentrating. Blackness encroached on his vision.

He stumbled again.

Bond said something he didn’t understand. It was drowned out by his hammering heartbeat.

He felt himself being lifted up and carried. Bond kept talking to him and even though his voice was too far away to make out Q still nodded, hoping it was the right thing to do.

The last thing he felt was the smooth leather of a car seat and the vehicle picking up speed.


	2. Miles To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay it has been far too long since I've uploaded the first chapter. Especially since chapter 2 has been finished for quite a while now. I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> There are more chapters finished - four so far - and I will post them soon. Maybe one each week. I am working on chapter five and am not sure how many there will be but that's pretty much business as usual for me. :P
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has read and will read this story and hope it is as fun for them to read as it is for me to write.

He came to briefly but not fully, laid out on a bed in a bright room. The ceiling lights stung in his eyes and he felt dizzy and disoriented. The blurry contours of people kept walking in and out of his field of vision. Q tried to get somebody’s attention but his body refused to budge. He would have panicked but his mind faded again before the gravity of the situation could fully register.

 

* * *

 

The next time he woke up it was dark and quiet around him. A faint, constant beeping was the only thing he could hear. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and he could feel other medical equipment attached to his arms and chest. He awkwardly pushed the oxygen mask off his face and croaked out a meek “Hello?”

There was a sudden movement next to him and he shrank back. His fear made the steady beeping speed up.

“Q?”, said a deep voice, still coarse with sleep. Then a lamp was turned on and the quartermaster locked eyes with Bond who sat in a chair next to his bed. “You’re awake”, Bond said, sounding shaken.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing”, Q got out with some difficulty. Speaking hurt.

“No, just…” Bond trailed off and let out a sigh. “I’ll get a doctor.” He got up, a tired heaviness in his movements.

“Wait”, Q said and reached out even though the agent was already out of reach. “What is wrong?”

Bond stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He stood there for a long moment and just stared at the door. Then he sighed again and returned to his place on the chair. He was quiet for so long that Q was sure he wouldn’t get an answer. But then, Bond spoke; quietly and with slow insistence.

“I hadn’t expected you to wake up. No one really expected you to. When I brought you to medical after you got poisoned that day at the convention centre, your condition deteriorated quickly. The doctors managed to stabilize you but we needed to find an antidote. But whatever they gave you … no one has seen anything like it. M even called in specialists but it quickly became clear we were getting nowhere fast. And then … then all your vitals dropped suddenly. I can’t tell you what happened exactly; I was on a mission when it happened. When I came back they’d transferred you here and I was informed that”, he paused again and it was obvious that it pained him what he said next. “I was informed that chances were high you wouldn’t recover.”

Q had listened quietly so far because he felt Bond needed to tell the story as a whole but that shocked a reaction out of him. “Not recover?”, he echoed. And then: “How long have I been out?”

“Eight days, give or take a few hours.”

“Oh God!”, Q exclaimed. He didn’t know what else to say or even how to feel about all of this. They both fell silent. Q needed a moment to wrap his head around everything he had just heard. “So what changed?”, he asked after a while, having decided to focus his mind on the situation at hand rather than the looming knowledge of everything else. “Why did I wake up?”

“I don’t know”, Bond admitted. “But right now I honestly couldn’t care less about the why. I’m just glad to have you back.” A tired smile softened his features and he gingerly took Q’s hand in his as if he was scared to break him. Or, well, break him even more, Q thought glumly.

“Glad to _be_ back”, Q said. He was beginning to feel drained and tired but was overcome by the sudden, irrational fear that if he would fall asleep he wouldn’t be able to wake up again. “What happened while I was out? Has Q branch gone up in flames yet?”, he asked to distract himself. Also, he was curious, almost hungry, to know what had happened in the past week.

“I wasn’t at Six much to be honest”, Bond said and Q knew him well enough by now to fill in the gaps. Bond hunting after every single clue, spending what little time wasn’t consumed by this obsession to keep vigil by his bedside. That last part was mostly the romantic in him speaking. Bond wasn’t the type to sit idle when there was work to be done. Not even when that sitting was done next to the sick bed of a good friend not to mention lover. The agent would rather work on a solution. But Q allowed himself to indulge in a little daydreaming just this once. “R is keeping a tight rein on everything. She’s not you but she’s good and definitely determined. Q? Are you listening?”

“Yes. Sorry”, Q said. His train of thought had distracted him. “I’m still a little thrown off.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” Bond nodded in sympathy. “Maybe it would be better to get a few hours of sleep and talk tomorrow. You look like death, Q.”

“I slept for over a week”, Q snapped. “I doubt sleeping more is the answer here.”

That was when the door to the room was opened and a very disgruntled-looking nurse entered the room. “Mister Bond, you are keeping our other patients awake. If you can’t–“ Her eyes grew wide when she realized Q was awake. “Oh!”, she exclaimed and for a moment she froze in the doorway, perplexed.

“I’ll call doctor Eckleburg”, she announced and rushed off.

The doctor came and did a preliminary examination of Q, keeping up a constant monologue – interrupted by instructions for the nurse regarding changes in medication and tests that were to be scheduled as soon as possible – while doing so. Bond had been asked to leave but had, true to his character, refused and goaded a smile out of Q by doing so.

When Bond and Q were finally alone again the quartermaster was tired enough that he gave in and closed his eyes. The horror of not waking up was still present in his mind but he was too weak to try to fight against his own body.

 

The next days were filled with all kinds of tests following up on the initial examination by doctor Eckleburg. Q was tense throughout all of it since the results of these tests would tell him if his body and mind were still functioning as they should. He didn’t feel like there was something wrong with him, apart from being painfully weak and easily exhausted, but it didn’t take a medical expert to know that feelings weren’t a reliable indicator for this sort of thing.

It did prove to be accurate this time, though. It wasn’t a clean bill of health by any account but when all the test results were in the doctor assured him that there wouldn’t be any long-term effects as long as he took his time to recuperate properly and build up his strength again. For that he was to be transferred to a MI6 facility outside of London. “Somewhere in the countryside”, Eve had told him when she’d arranged his transfer and taken the time to drop by for a visit. “I’ve seen some pictures and it looks lovely.” Q had a pretty good idea where they would send him and ‘lovely’ wasn’t the word he would use to describe it.

It was Hollyhead House, or ‘the Pasture’ as it was called at six. A top notch caring facility for former agents with severe physical or mental problems. The medical personnel was the best in MI6’s employ so on occasion agents were sent there to recuperate. Q had only heard of it as part of rather crude jokes or very dramatic, sad stories.

 

* * *

 

Bond had offered to drive him to Hollyhead, sparing him the transfer by ambulance. It meant a lot to Q; all the more because he couldn’t imagine driving out to the Pasture was easy for the agent. Over the years, he’d almost been sent there permanently on more than one occasion.

When Bond came to pick him up, he was in an even worse mood than Q had imagined. Without a proper greeting, he asked: “You ready?”

It was clear that he was preoccupied with something; at least to Q. Most people wouldn’t register Bond’s tension, neither his stance nor his expression gave anything away, but Q knew the subtle tells of the agent so he asked: “What is it?”

“What’s what?” For a trained MI6 agent, Bond’s evasion tactics could be horribly plump.

“Something is bothering you”, Q stated, holding eye contact to signal that neither of them would go anywhere as long as Bond didn’t tell him what it was.

The agent sighed. “You’re getting too good at this”, he said and shook his head. A smile appeared on his lips but quickly faded again. “We might have a lead in your case but let’s not discuss this here. I’ll tell you in the car.”

Q took one look at Bond’s grave expression and nodded. He called for the nurse and let himself be helped into the wheelchair. It was a grim reminder of his current state and Q couldn’t look Bond in the eye during the whole process. Only when he was settled and had taken a moment to blink away the tears, did he manage to meet the agent’s eyes again. “We can go”, he said flatly. The nurse nodded and pushed the wheelchair towards the exit while Bond was walking next to him. Without saying a word the agent took Q’s hand in his, caressing it gently, as if to say that everything would be alright. Q had trouble convincing himself of that but feeling the warmth of Bond’s hand around his he almost believed it.

 

Bond helped him into the car, thankfully still without saying anything. Right now, Q couldn’t have handled even the most well-meaning words of encouragement or sympathy. He was used to being independent; he’d taken care of himself since he’d been fourteen. The reality that he couldn’t do that now was still shocking and overwhelming every time he was reminded of it. And, sure, it would get better but right now there was no saying how long that would take.

If he was perfectly honest it terrified him but he’d rather not be at the moment. It helped him cope. At least a little. He was still tearing up again by the time Bond had finished strapping him in and closed the door.

They drove in silence until the hospital was out of sight. Then, Bond spoke. “There might be another case like yours. Symptoms match.”

Q’s head spun around so fast that it looked almost like somebody had hit him. “What? Who? Where?” He could feel his pulse racing.

Bond hesitated for an uncharacteristically long time. “A young girl”, he finally said. “Went on a school trip to the museum, came home feeling sick and was rushed to hospital a few hours later. It almost slipped past our radar hadn’t one of the nurses noticed the puncture wound. We had sent out a notice to all hospitals in the country to look for the symptoms coupled with signs of a recent injection.”

“God…”, Q breathed. “How old is she?”

“Eight”, Bond said quietly. Now it was on him to avoid Q’s gaze.

“Eight”, Q echoed. “Eight years old…” He carded his hands through his hair. “But she’s going to be alright, isn’t she? I mean I got better so whatever it is isn’t fatal. Right?” He was speaking so hastily that the words blurred together until he wasn’t even sure Bond understood what he was saying.

“I shouldn’t have told you.”

Q shot him an angry look. “You can’t just tell me something like that and then just decide that’s it!”

“It’s upsetting you”, was all Bond replied.

“Everything’s bloody upsetting me! From the fact that I can’t even stand on my own two feet to you thinking you have to coddle me so, for the love of God, don’t – just don’t.” Q had to take a deep breath to calm down and not start shouting. “Now tell me.”

Bond didn’t say anything.

It made Q even more furious than he already was. “Listen!”, he said sharply. “I’m going to find out anyway. So, you can make it easy for me and just spit it out or make me find out by myself. The result will be the same.”

“It’s looking bad”, Bond said, his words razor-sharp. It was clear Q had upset him enough to get what he wanted. The whole story, no holds barred. “Either you just got lucky or they changed the makeup of whatever they’re injecting people with. The girl is in critical condition and it looks like she won’t make it much longer. A week, the doctors say. Maybe two. Her family is devastated.”

“Stop”, Q said, almost inaudible. His voice dying somewhere halfway between his throat and his mouth.

“You wanted to hear it”, Bond said gruffly.

“And you just had to be a dick about it”, Q shot back.

“I think that makes us even, then.” Bond stopped at a red light and turned to look at him. He seemed tired. “When I don’t tell you something it has nothing to do with coddling you. I know well enough that you can handle just about anything but…” He fell silent. The street lights turned green and Bond turned his attention back to the street. Q still had a feeling the agent wouldn’t just leave his sentence hanging like this so he waited. Finally, after almost five minutes, Bond continued: “I don’t want you to.”

“Why?”

“I think I am past the point where I can see us as a casual thing.”

Q was speechless. It was Bond who had insisted they wouldn’t take things beyond a good friendship and the occasional fling. Q had been fine with it; more than fine actually. All his attempts at having a serious relationship had crashed and burned so something with less commitment and guilt-tripping when he’d buried himself in his work for days again sounded heavenly. That had been their status quo for almost two years. And now Bond wanted to change that? It was more than a bit sudden and the only thing he was completely sure about was that he needed time to think about and process it but Bond also needed an answer. “I– I don’t know what to say”, he admitted.

“It’s alright. I don’t expect an answer right now; I just needed to tell you. To tell you the truth, I’ve felt this way for quite some time now but I didn’t want to tell you and put you on the spot.”

“And now you do?”, Q said with a faint smile.

“Let’s just say I had a lot of time to think while you were … out cold”, Bond said quietly. It was unlike him to be so solemn and Q was both touched and completely overwhelmed. This conversation was rapidly spinning in a direction that was completely beyond his comfort zone. He didn’t know how to deal with Bond when he was this open about his feelings. He couldn’t even deal with his own emotions sometimes, much less with those of other people.

“I–” Q felt his nerves getting to him. He knew he should stop talking or change the topic but he just kept going. “I can’t do this. I mean I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry, it’s just–”

“Q”, Bond interrupted him gently. “Calm down.”

“Sorry” Q shook his head and stared out of the window, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it”, Bond said reassuringly. “You’ve been through a lot and I should not have added to it by bringing up feelings. We know we’re both shit at dealing with them. So, really, I should be the one apologizing.”

“I’m being irrational” Q buried his head in his hand. “There’s no reason to get this worked up and it’s not helping either but…” He stopped himself, pondering for a moment if he really wanted to admit this. Finally, he decided for it. Actions worked better for them than words and he trusted Bond. “Don’t tell anyone”, he said, “but since I came to again it feels like my head’s all messed up. Not the rational part of it, thankfully, but my emotions. It’s like every little trigger sets off an avalanche. When someone says something I disagree with, I get so angry that I want to punch them. I can suppress it but that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Maybe it’s just the stress of it all getting to you”, Bond suggested. “It might resolve itself.”

“It scares me”, Q said glumly. “I am not an emotional person and I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe I’m suggesting this and you may punch me for it but maybe talking to a psychologist might help.”

Q did punch him, a playful jab to the shoulder, a smile on his lips. “You’re unbelievable”, he said.

Bond looked over, a broad grin on his face. “I’ll take that as a compliment”, he said, looking smug.

“Of course you do”, Q retorted and rolled his eyes but there was no real exasperation behind the gesture.

 

* * *

 

As they drove up to Hollyhead House, some more of Q’s concerns were alleviated. He had expected a cold, looming maximum-security facility but instead the building looked inviting and homely, almost like a quaint country hotel; at least at first glance. On the second glance Q spotted a what looked like a gym at the back of the building and several other, smaller building whose function wasn’t apparent from their exterior.

“It looks … nice”, Q said hesitantly.

“Could look a lot worse”, Bond agreed. “Still, I’m glad I get to drive back to HQ.”

Q threw him a sour look. “Your bedside manner is terrible”, he quipped.

“Just being honest”, Bond said, shrugging off the critique.

“Mh.” Q decided to change the topic. There was one last thing that bothered him and this might just be the last opportunity to talk about it for some time. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Can you keep me posted on the investigation?”

“Q!”, Bond chided. “You know why you’re not supposed to know.”

“Because M thinks I can’t handle it”, Q said scathingly

“Because M knows you won’t be happy just knowing how things are and try to get involved instead of taking the time you need to recover”, Bond retorted.

There was no sense denying it. Q pouted. “Fine”, he admitted with spite. “You got me. I want to help. So what? It’s not like I can do much anyway.”

“You can’t do anything”, Bond corrected him. “Your security clearance is revoked for the time being and I somehow doubt they have a computer you could use.”

“Thank you for reminding me”, Q said harshly. “Wouldn’t want me to forget that I am officially without any authority right now. They even took my employee ID card. As if I would just decide to walk all the way back to MI6 and sneak back in. As if I even could.” He felt frustration and anger bubbling up inside of him and shut up.

“I tell you what, play along for now and when you’ve made some progress in your recovery, renegotiate. M can be reasoned with. He knows what an asset you are to us; right now that means his priority is to make sure that you get better but he won’t shun your help if he sees you’re on the road to recovery.” The words were kind but a clear sign that Bond wanted the conversation to be over. Q couldn’t blame him. He knew he was taking his frustration out on him and that wasn’t right. Feigning a hopeful smile, he nodded.

 

Bond parked the car in front of the main building where a nurse was already waiting for them with a wheelchair. A dreaded sight for Q.

“Thank you”, he said to Bond while they still had the privacy of the car. “I know I’m not good company at the moment and I appreciate that you’re putting up with me.”

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?”, Bond said, then got out of the car. He walked over and opened the door for Q, helping him stand up and settle back into the wheelchair.

Contrary to what Q had expected the agent didn’t say his goodbyes and drive off. Instead Bond followed inside, striking up a friendly conversation with the nurse.

“I hope you will handle our quartermaster with the best of care”, he said as he held open the front door for them. “He means a lot to a lot of people.” Q felt himself blush and threw the agent a sour look, hoping it would tell him to stop talking about him like he wasn’t there and stop the flattery.

The nurse chuckled. “I can assure you Q is in the best hands here. He will be back in the game in no time. I’ll make sure of it.”

 

The entrance hall was even a step up to the inviting atmosphere of the outside. Warm woods and clear lines dominated everything. Q found it calming. Behind a counter another nurse was sitting, handing the one pushing his wheelchair a patient file and telling her which room Q would stay in. Bond made no indication that he was about to leave and the quartermaster was beginning to feel self-conscious about it.

“I think it’s okay for you to go now, 007”, he said as neutrally as possible.

“Are you sure?”, Bond looked at him intently, reading his expression and waiting for another confirmation. For someone who was prone to running off the first chance he got, it was quite touching.

“Yes, quite”, Q replied with a smile. “I’m taken care of and should anything come up, I’ll call.”

Bond nodded obediently – another first. Then he leaned down and breathed a kiss on Q’s lips. “Get well soon”, he said, grinning cockily, and with a relaxed salute made his exit.

 

* * *

 

During the first days, things were both much better and much worse than Q had expected. Worse because even though he’d known the training regimen to build up his muscles again wouldn’t be a walk in the park – pun very much intended –, nothing could have prepared him for how strenuous and exhausting it actually was. His muscles seemed to be constantly sore, with every day of training just adding to it, and for all that torture he wasn’t making much visible progress. Someone along the chain of command had also decided he needed to see a psychologist – or rather a psychiatrist – and talk about what had happened to him. Q didn’t share that view but there was little he could do about it. The only small solace he had was that his sessions weren’t to start until next week.

But things weren’t all bad. The nurse who had brought him to his room on the first day, her name was Katherine, had taken the promise she’d given Bond very seriously and did everything to help Q and make his stay more comfortable. She was also a very pleasant conversation partner and frequently convinced him to go outside. On most days all he could bring himself to do was doze in one of the deck chairs on the terrace for a few hours, too exhausted by the physiotherapy. Sometimes Katherine would take him for a walk in the forest that belonged to the property. It lent some variety to his otherwise monotonous days. By far the best thing, however, were the frequent visitors he got. He hadn’t really expected anyone besides Eve and Miss Llewelyn, his right-hand woman, and maybe Tanner showing up but almost every day someone from Q branch dropped by, bringing little presents in the form of chocolate and loose-leaf tea as well as information, the latter probably orchestrated by R. It kept him up to date on the investigation. Q was grateful for it but it also made him feel a little guilty for not doing anything with it. He would have loved to help but on most days, he was simply too tired and without a laptop there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

 

On Friday, Eve dropped by in the afternoon. She had apparently broken into and raided his apartment because she had two large suitcases with her, filled to the brim with everything from clothes and toiletries to most of his tools as well as a few of the tinkering projects he liked to spend his free time on.

“You look better”, she said, busying herself with unpacking.

“The sentiment is appreciated but there’s no need to sugar-coat things. I look fucking horrible.” Q laughed mirthlessly.

“Well, you look better than when you were out cold, at least”, she replied and glanced at him between putting shirts into the fitted cupboard, smiling sympathetically.

Q sighed. “Sorry, I’m frustrated. I was hoping to get back on my feet quickly but so far the physiotherapy isn’t doing much apart from being a bloody torture.”

“Those things need time”, she said. “Being around Bond tends to make one forget that.”

Q smiled. “Yeah. He seems to be pretty much indestructible.”

“He does but that’s just because he knows how to hide when he’s suffering. Below the tough façade and the witty one-liners, he’s still human.”

Something about Eve’s words gave Q pause. Then he remembered the conversation he’d had with Bond in the car and suddenly everything made sense. “How much did he tell you?”, he asked.

Eve had finished unpacking his clothes and turned around, leaning against the wall. “You know Bond isn’t in the habit of telling anyone anything but I’ve known him long enough to realise when something is on his mind. And, these days, it usually has to do with you.” She paused for a moment. “Look, I don’t want to meddle but I know things can sort of spiral out of control when we go through shitty times. It’s stressful and we become frustrated and it’s so easy to take it out on the people that are most dear to us. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. Promise.”

“I will keep it in mind”, Q said pensively. There was a lull in the conversation while he mustered up his courage to ask: “How are things going at six? How is Bond?”

“Q branch is still a little shaken by what happened to you”, Eve reported, giving him a fond smile. “I’ve heard at least two of your minions swear to exact revenge when they catch whoever was behind the attack on you. It’s really rather sweet.”

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you that you have a weird definition of sweet.”

“You’re right. You don’t. R already took care of that. She’s keeping everyone focused and doing a magnificent job of it by the way.”

“By the time I get out of here I need to come up with something to thank her for all the amazing work she’s done and is doing”, Q said. With every new crisis, Miss Llewelyn had proven herself a calm, strong and reliable leader. It was a relief to know his branch in good hands.

“You do”, Eve agreed. “And you have not only her to thank. Everyone is working on getting those guys. M made the investigation top priority from the get go and freed a lot of manpower to get quick results. Bond is spearheading the taskforce doing the fieldwork. He’s currently following a lead and”, she looked at her watch, “should have just landed in Rome.”

“Rome?”, Q asked a little confused. It was the first time he’d heard of a lead there.

“It’s nothing solid yet but when we checked the security footage of the convention centre, the facial recognition went off left right and centre. We identified multiple high-profile criminals as well as a lot of people suspected of illegal activity. We assigned agents to follow all those leads, hoping one of them will get us somewhere. One of the people we identified was Thomas Ferguson.”

“That journalist who was put on trial for supporting terrorist organisations?”

“The same. He escaped during a prisoner transfer a few years back and apparently makes his living as a weapon’s dealer these days. With all that in mind, I think it’s safe to say he wasn’t just there to see the sights. We managed to track him down three days ago and Bond has been shadowing him since. Ferguson is invited to some party in Rome this evening with a lot of other shady characters on the guest list. Bond called in this morning and said if nothing happens at the gala today, Ferguson isn’t our guy.”

“Who are the other candidates? And who’s been assigned to have an eye on them?” Q had all but forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to work.

“Lukas Aaronov, also a weapons dealer with a love for nuclear and bio weapons. He returned to St. Petersburg after the convention. Alec’s shadowing him. Then there’s Pieter Verhoofen, a hired gun working for whoever offers him the most money. It’s likely he was there on someone else’s behalf. 003 is following him, hoping to find his current employer. And, last but not least, Zara Svansen, assassin, information broker and involved in pretty much any illegal activity you or me can think of but her real passion is politics. She literally brought down countries and yet no one ever managed to find proof to pin any of this on her. So far, she’s proven quite capable at keeping a low profile. 002 and 008 are trying to track her down. There are more but we’re just checking on them to be thorough. Those four are our main suspects.”

“But what grudge would any of them have against me?”, Q asked. “I don’t remember ever being part of any mission targeting them. And even if I’d been, how would they know?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, too”, Eve conceded.

Q suddenly remembered something. “Bond told me there was a little girl who came down with the same symptoms as me. Maybe we can find out if she crossed paths with one of our suspects.”

Eve stilled for a second, before quickly saying: “Yeah. That … sounds like a good idea.”

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”, Q stated.

 Eve nodded without saying a word.

“Dammit!”, Q cursed loudly. He would have jumped up and paced the room angrily but he was stuck sitting in his wheelchair, unable to do anything.

“Let’s change the subject, please”, Eve said, not looking at him.

“Yes. Let’s”, Q agreed but was lost as to where to take the conversation from there. What were you supposed to say after a revelation like that? Nice weather outside? Hardly.

The silence stretched on between them.

Finally, it was Eve who said something. “I almost forgot I got something else for you.” She rummaged around in her bag for a moment and handed him a small earpiece. One of his, he realised on closer inspection.

A small smile formed on his lips. “Thank you”

“We can’t very well just leave you stranded here”, Eve said, shaking the glumness. “And, to be perfectly honest, R and I both thought it best to give you a way to reach Bond. He’s … taking this very personal.”

“I’ll talk to him but don’t expect any miracles.”

“Do that”, Eve said. “But most of all, take some time for yourself and get well again.” She smiled encouragingly. “I have to get going now but I’ll try to drop by again next week. Maybe I can drag R away from her workstation for a while and have her come along.” With that promise, she hugged him goodbye and left.


End file.
